Behind the Light of an Evenstar
by RogueAngel1
Summary: Chapter three is up and I'm sorry it's so short, but romance around here has kept me away from my fanfiction, deepest apologies
1. Default Chapter

Behind the Light of the Evenstar  
  
Disclaimer: Arwen and the merry band of Elves and co. I use in this are 100% Tolkien. Analyn is mine but that's it.  
  
  
"Analyn" The voice is soft, but carries the authority and dignity I have become used to hearing in it, and in it's brother. I turn in my saddle to face Elladan  
"My lord?"  
Both of the sons of Elrond look at me, four gray eyes meeting my blue ones with intensity I am almost used to "We will stop here, we cannot hope to reach Rivendell before nightfall." Almost as if listening to these words, our mounts halt.  
Elrohir and Elladan begin preparations for the night. The two are so attuned to each other that I hesitate to help lest I interrupt the practiced dance they make around the clearing they have chosen for the night.  
We are a small party, only the three of us. In part, they are my escorts, guarding Lady Arwens maid of honor as she bears a message to the Lady Galadrial. Of far more importance, they are couriers from Elrond to his kinsmen, bearing tidings they do not confide in me, but share with each other in the worried expressions they pass over my head.   
Not that I have made them privy to my mistresses message. Though her love for her brothers is as strong as the love that binds her in troth to the Dunadan, I can only imagine her anger were I to take them into my confidence about the message I bear.  
They will not ask me to betray their sisters confidence, I will not press them to divulge the secrets Galadrial and Elrond have entrusted in them  
Wordlessly Elladan hands me a wafer of lembas, and Elrohir a small silver cup of miruvor. We all chew the food of the Golden Wood thoughtfully, and I feel a moment of guilty pleasure at eating the food I miss while I am in Imladris with my lady. While Lady Undomiel dwelled in Lorien, I grew used to the food of the place, though I missed the miruvor. I am often like that, unsatisfied with what I have until I lose it, always restless and searching for something new to capture my attention.  
One reason I have become Lady Arwen courier of late. Raised together in Imladris and Lothlorien, we remain as close as sisters, and now I serve her as a maid of honor. A prestigious position in Elronds household, tribute to the close friendship my parents shared with Elrond Halfelven until they sought the havens. I am unabashedly more spirited then elven maids tend to be, and have been the stem of affectionate and spiteful teasing about this. The more affectionate tormentors find this an endearing qualities, the spiteful ones cite it as a reason I am yet unwed.  
Truth be told they are probably correct, for I am loath to trade the relative freedom I enjoy now for the honorable chains of domestic life. Not that I have entirely eschewed proper Elven refinements. I hunger and thirst for knowledge with the same insatiable hunger of all of Elronds folk, my memory stretches back to the birth of the third age, I fear the dark lord of Mordor with the glacial dread of all my people. By elven standards, any standards, I am fair to look upon I suppose. Nothing like my mistress, and that is unfortunate as she is fairest of any, but not ugly. I am smaller than most, light and quick on my feet. Elladan and Elrohir have teased me that my wit is as fast as my footsteps, and equally likely to get me into trouble. I have golden hair that falls to the backs of my knees on the rare event I allow it out of its plaits.  
Elrohir wrenches me from my musings with a stern look, and I smooth by thin white robes and come to sit between him and his brother in front of the fire. Elladan nods to me and I begin to sing,  
A Elbereth Gilthoniel  
silivren penna miriel  
o menal aglar elenath!  
Na-chaered palan-diriel  
o galadhremmin ennorath  
Fanuilos, le linnathon  
nef aear, si nef aearon!  
  
Elladan is more stringent about the singing of this song then is his brother, but both join me by the second line. I am possessed of a clear, strong alto. Elladan powerful bass and Elrohirs majestic tenor compliment my voice beautifully and in the dark of the woods at night, no evil can pierce my heart when the songs of the blessed realm still sing in my heart.   
Tomorrow I know we will set off for the final leg of our journey to Imladris where I will deliver Galadrials message to my lady. Something has changed in this last trip to the Golden Wood, and I fear that a storm is brewing, as it so recently has in the far land of Mirkwood. As much as a fear the shadow, my heart welcomes the challenge as my mind protests the change.  
  
*If I get good reviews for this, chapter two will be up within 48 hours* 


	2. Hand of the Past

Disclaimer: Again, don't own Arwen or any other Tolkien people/places/things. Analyn is mine but that's about it. Thanks to everyone who replied to chapter one, I'd love some reviews from this one as well.  
  
We crossed the borders into Imladris under a damp and dreary sky. Elladan and Elrohir rode silently side by side, sharing in the relative warmth of the nearness of the other. Though I hum lightly to myself, the song of Gil-Galad, I contemplate my companions.   
  
Fair as a summer morning and identical as two raindrops one rarely sees one without the other. They seem to me to have moved on to a place where words lose their meaning and the only true contemplation and comprehension comes in the form of the thoughts they share with one another in a place beyond time, beyond mind and beyond the reason of anyone but the two. Truly I think one would die without the other as truly as I think one would die for the other.  
  
Our mounts are taken from us as we pass through the gates of Elronds house. Bowing a final farewell I take my leave of Elronds sons and make my way to my own chambers. I do not immediately seek out the Lady Undomiel as I know she will find me as soon as she is aware of my return, and I know that the time that will elapse between now and then will be a brief and precious one- the last moments I have alone until my next venture into the wild, as I like to think of my sojourns to Lothlorien.   
  
I ring for a bath and wait as it is prepared for me in my chambers. I slip into it and revel in the luxury so forbidden on the road; warm water easing the aches from my muscles as surely as it eases the grit from my skin. The heady smell of Elanor flowers rises with the steam and brings me back to the golden wood for a moment, and I cling to that moment even as the joy of my return to Rivendell wanes.  
  
It is always like this. As soon as I am returned to the well ordered walls of Rivendell I wish for the untamed roads of the wild, the sweet freedom of Lorien. When I am out there, I miss the security of Imladris, the duties of a handmaiden and the companionship of people who have known me since birth. The door to my chamber opens silently on silver hinges and Arwen enters the room.   
  
I have seen Lady Galadrial more recently the resemblance between her and Lady Arwen is all the more pronounced. I know when I see my lady next to her father I will see the strong family resemblance that runs through both of them, but now I see in Arwen the familiar faces of the Golden Wood. I remember Celebrain very well, and I mourned for her as much as my lady did when she crossed the sea. I remember well the sleepless nights when Elrond tended her, cloistered in their great chamber allowing no one to enter, not even Arwen. Elladan and Elrohir clung to each other, literally holding onto each other through the nights that seemed to stretch out in an eternal darkness. The days were better, the sun in Rivendell did not diminish because it's lady wavered on the edge of eternal darkness, and we could amuse ourselves riding all day, sometimes crossing the river into lands that were unfamiliar. The nights though were a torment of black cruelty. Elladan and Elrohir sad silently side by side arms around one another, heads pillowed on brotherly shoulders, never drifting into sleep. Arwen and I wove or embroidered as if nothing was wrong, the light of many marble-pale candles illuminating our work. We worked in silence as her brothers sat in silence, but we fought sleep as if it were the hand of the enemy. As the night wore on we would all stare at the window willing the blue blackness to yield to the delicate rose of dawn. When it did, Arwen and I would rush to the kitchen to prepare a tray of food and drink to carry to Celebrains chamber. I would carry it and place it on the table beside her bed, while Arwen exchanged a few words, a brief embrace with her father and leaned down to kiss her mothers golden hair- always hoping her gray eyes would open- always hoping in vain.  
  
This is what I think now as I see my mistress again. I realize the sadness really hasn't left her eyes since her mother left, and I know with Dunadan away as he is, it never really will. I can only hope that the small message I bear brings her some measure of comfort, though I know better then to expect that. Rising from my tub I don a robe and cross my room, bowing, then rising to kiss the cheek of the Evenstar. 


	3. I wonder

Lady Undomiel is not one to rush a conversation. Although the veneer of calm that she wears sheilds her anxiety about as well as a breeze could conceal Caras Galadon, in other words, not at all. Attendants slip slowly in and out of my chambers binging wine and fruit, bowing a final sbumission to us before taking their leave. Arwen seats herself at the edge of my bed, I sit at the stool of my dressing table, and we both help outselves to wine.  
  
This is not the first time we've sat thus, nor will it be the last, but alwys the coming of such a pregnant pause heralds the coming of a new era for us. For we sat this way on the dawn after she pledged herself in troth to Estel, the Dunadan.  
  
Of course, we were in Lothlorien then and the chambers we sat in were not of the gleaming stone of Imladris but the golden wood of the palfreys of Lorien. We sat in silence then for hours, Arwen contemplating what she'd done, me contemplating the doom she'd chosen.  
  
For it is my doom now too. As the dawn rose over the golden hills I finally broke the silence that day and declared my intentions to her, and later to Gladarial; I will not forsake middle earth and this exile without Arwen Evenstar and should my lady chose to remain forever on these shores, then forever too will I remain. The lady of the trees said nothing to that, and nothing she could have said, even she in her infinate wisdom, would have filled the gaping hole in my being I feel at being denyed the white ships to the west, but as Galadrial accepted exile even after dwelling with Elbereth in all her glory, I too can deny myself the western shores.  
  
Though I know I lose less then my lady does. When Celebrain passed to the west Lady Evenstars only consolation was the thought that they could be together again beyond the sea, but now even that small comfort cannot be hers. She loses both father and mother to the west, brothers to an unknown fate, and her entire race to the draw of the white ships.  
  
My mind returns from the golden wood all those years ago when Lady Evenstar speaks.  
"What news do you bring me of the Dunadan, Analyn?"  
  
Her voice carries no inflection, though I know she has waited for weeks for my words, and I wonder at this. I also wonder again, as I have so many times, weather or not Arwen wants to make the choice she chose. I wonder if Arwen wants Aragorn to die in battle before he can deny her the evermost west. I wonder... 


End file.
